"The One, the Proud"

[OdileCondacin 0]

Set before the last game...

 

Lt. Maj. Hanna-Beth "Hair" Rieve finished setting up the NNC gym for "Recruit" Odile's training. She waited for her to report.

 

Odile was in no particular hurry, arriving just barely on time and certainly not a minute early. She tossed a bottle of water on a bench and glanced around the gym, half-nodded at Rieve. "Ah, Major. Here I am. Fresh meat."

 

Hair noted the tinge of irreverence that hadn't quite been beaten out of Odile in her first two days of Marine basic. Now, the gym was partitioned, with only about half of it set up for this exercise. The set up of the room was quite simple - simply colored blue padded walls, and a bouncy elastic substance covering nearly every square centimeter of the floor. Toward the center of the room, a circular section of the floor was about a quarter of a meter higher than the baseline. A red line surrounded the higher circle.

 

"Did you bring your rifle, recruit?"

 

"Lieutenant," she corrected under her breath, and nodded, producing the weapon. "Of course."

 

Hair overheard the correction. "Out there, you're 'Lieutenant.' In here, you're 'recruit'. Now, lay down your rifle on the side, pick up a pole and put on a helmet."

The "pole" was perhaps the most low-tech of weapons. Quite simply, it was plastic pole, approximately one meter long, with two bulbs bulging out each side. Its name and the details of its design had changed over time, but the basic idea had been in Marine training for centuries. Hair did exactly as she was telling the recruit.

 

"Hmph," Odile muttered, but in spite of the disparaging tone, her expression changed to a definite "game-face". She reached for a helmet and pole, adjusting the first to comfort and weighing the weapon in her hands, getting a feel for it.

 

Having done this many times, Hair required little adjustment to the weapon. Each pole was an identical regulation copy of every other. She stepped up onto the higher platform. "The rules are simple. The goal is to drop your opponent off the platform as many times as you can within the allotted time, without falling yourself. If you find yourself on the ground, don't expect to get back up here immediately. You may strike anywhere below the neck. Above the neck is a penalty. Are the rules clear?"

 

She nodded. "Simple enough. So I do want to let you back up here immediately?"

 

"You wouldn't be the first or the last to try. Ascend the platform."

 

Condacin stepped up, letting the weapon swing in her hands. Not horribly heavy -- she'd wielded heavier -- though certainly not her favorite weapon she'd ever held.

 

Hair held the weapon with two hands, one near each bulb. "Begin." The computer began automatically and silently counting down time.

 

Odile started with a forward thrust, then another, even though she never liked making the first offensive blows -- especially with a new opponent.

 

Hair didn't try to use the pole to defend, she quickly backed off, and turned away from Odile's thrusts, waiting for her to try harder.

 

Odile muttered something, the next attack equally controlled if a little more powerful, moving closer to the Marine woman as she swung.

 

Hair continued backing off until she nearly backed herself to the edge of the platform. Then, she ducked downward, letting the swing go over her head. She then released her own pole from one side, pulling it back and practically letting its elasticity propel it forward, under Odile's blow.

 

It took her off guard, and the Xenexian let out a foul and guttural curse in her native tongue, knocked backwards. Lashing back, Odile let go the weapon, jerking it left at the last moment in a feign.

 

Hair let the pole's bounce of momentum guide it back into her hands as she took a controlled tumble forward. Instead of blocking, she gave the pole, a forward thrust, bulb side first in Odile's direction, and toward the platform edge.

 

Sin tumbled, precariously near the edge, and came dangerously near rolling off. It didn't used to be that difficult. Maybe she was just out of practice

 

Hair recovered from her own tumble, and again used the pole's natural bounce to bring it back under control. She went for the quick putt off the platform.

 

Odile was ferocious after she slipped off, slamming the pole hard against Hair's, fighting to be back on the elevated circle.

 

The pole was clearly not a defensive weapon. Hair allowed her own pole to take the hard hit, even allowing it to bend, risking a close call with her own leg, knowing that the momentum of the crash would simply bounce back into Odile's pole.

 

She hissed, then followed with two quick parries, getting up to her knees. "Gods," she muttered, and kept up tirelessly.

 

Hair practically ignored Odile's defensive moves, instead jumping up, pulling back on the pole and allowing it to slide in her hands until she could grab a hold of it from the center. She then ran closer to Odile and fired two blows in quick succession from opposite directions.

 

Odile missed the first, though anticipating the second came more naturally. It was easier, she realized, the more "into" it she got. More natural was better, and Odile went more offensive, a furious blow towards Rieve's hip, then leg.

 

Hair took a hit to the hip, falling slightly backwards and sideways under its power. When the leg shot hit, she used it to increase her speed in the side direction and turn, taking aim at Odile's torso.

 

Condacin snapped off, away from her and finally up to her feet, twisting to get in a blow near Hair's stomach. "Not bad, jarhead," she muttered. "But not good enough."

 

Hair realized that Odile now learned a bit about what this exercise was all about. Under normal Marine basic training circumstances, it was about bringing out aggression. But, that was something that Odile had in abundance. At first, Hair jumped quickly backwards, almost as she had the first time around. But, not to repeat a pattern, she turned around, doing a 720, and allowed one of the stomach shots to hit her in the side as she took a shot for Odile's left flank.

 

It hit, knocking her to the right, but Odile leapt forward after it, and hit for her arm doggedly. "Just a few days in, and I'm already tired of Marines," she snapped, delivering another blow with the words. "Very sick of Marines."

 

Completing her spin, Rieve bounced sideways on the platform as her arm took a hit. Noting that they were now side to side, she came in low at Odile's back, "Then you should watch your back for them!"

 

"Grozit," she swore again, stumbling. "I do," she muttered. Another blow struck sideways against Rieve, harder than she'd hit before. "You can't trust Marines."

 

Rieve fell backwards toward the center of the platform, hitting her back against the platform floor, then practically flipping herself back onto her feet. Recovering from a hit was one of the things she was well trained in. Without missing a beat, she turned straight into what looked like it would be a full frontal charge, trying to draw a blow forward. At the last moment, she turned off the straight path and went for a blow to the legs. "You may be tired of Marines. But you're not ready to be one," she exclaimed as she attacked.

 

Odile was knocked to the ground of the platform, again teetering on the edge. "Wouldn't want to be soulless in grey, at any rate." Lashing out with the pole, she aimed for the other woman's left arm, then swung right, to her stomach in the last instant.

 

Rieve fell to the right, almost, but not quite, losing control of her pole. As she fell, she pushed her pole bulb-side first toward Odile's side and the platform edge.

 

Condacin grimaced, jerking away from the pole and to the other side of the platform. Her movements turned violent, bottled frustration starting to fuel the blows. Mimicking Rieve's hold on the weapon, she shoved it roughly towards her, then to each side, and finally towards her neck, fast and quite literally furious. "No respect. No concern," she muttered. "And now this training." Another blow at her waist and Odile fell back a pace.

 

Rieve was impressed with how fast Condacin was picking up the art of this fight. For a blue-shirt, she knew her way around martial arts. "Wearing gray is a privelege." Rieve backed off until the blow to her waist, which hit and pushed her backwards. Then, she came forward with a litany of blows of her own. "And respect is something that's earned."

 

"I have earned it, shark!" On the last blow, without thinking she defended with her arm, taking the blow against the bone and grimacing, smacking forward blindly with the pole once while recovering.

 

Rieve used the moment of weakness given by Odile's blind blow to continue her attack, aiming for Odile's knees. "I say when you've earned it."

 

The Xenexian fell. "I haven't asked for yours, shark!" Even from her crouch, Odile didn't give up, doggedly determined not to give in to the Marine.

 

Hair pressed on, watching her underside while continuing her attack. "Then don't expect to make it halfway through basic, <i>recruit</i>."

 

Odile lashed out, turning as if to strike her at the side, then twisting upwards to hit her shoulder instead.

 

Rieve ran right into the shoulder blow, trying to use her own forward momentum to deflect the pole back in Odile's direction. Odile's fakes were getting predictable. She decided to try to end it by aiming for Odile's boots, in an attempt to slide her off the platform.

 

Much to her chagrin, it worked, and Odile found herself sprawling, wind damned close to being knocked out of her. "Grozit," she muttered from her back, taking a minute to catch her breath.

 

Hair looked over the edge of the platform as the computer rang a buzzer. Time's up. She jumped off the platform, and held out her hand toward Odile.

 

Odile glared for a long moment, and finally righted herself with Rieve's assistance. "You wouldn't have done that ten years ago."

 

Rieve decided to ignore the implication, and instead provided her evaluation. "It only gets more difficult from here. Lacking aggression is not your weakness. Channeling it towards the common goal is. That's a part of what being a Marine is all about. And, whether you like it or not, when you're in Marine basic, we will make a Marine out of you."

 

"I'm rusty," Odile dismissed. "The point of this," she supplied her personal outlook on the little conundrum that Rieve was terming "becoming a Marine", "is to make me a better warrior."

 

Rieve grinned at Odile's stubbornness. "We'll see if you still find yourself believing that after platoon training." She left Odile to ponder that as she dropped her helmet and pole and left the gym.

 

She tested her weight, headed for her water bottle and rifle, and let out a defiant "Hmph!" to the quiet of the gym.